


Conqueror's Ethos

by HedgeKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7919119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedgeKnight/pseuds/HedgeKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Daeron had long felt that the continued independence of Dorne represented unfinished business for the Targaryen's, and upon his ascension he vowed to rectify his ancestors' mistake. His uncle and Hand of the King Prince Viserys and councillors objected to his plans. His councillors reminded him that Aegon the Conquerer and his sisters failed twice in trying to conquer Dorne and they had Dragons and that the Iron Throne had none, to which Daeron famously replied: 'You have a dragon.  He stands before you.'" -A Wiki of Ice and Fire</p>
<p>"When I read about Daeron the Young Dragon, my first thought is of Alexander the Great of Macedonia." -Me</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

### Chapter 1: King Dragonbane

1 March 153 AC

Daeron hated when father would make him sit in the throne room. While father sat on the Iron Throne with Uncle Viserys by his side, Daeron was sitting in a small chair nearby, but not close enough to hear what his uncle whispered to his father every now and then. Maybe if he heard his uncle, it would be less boring. So boring, because every time was the same thing. He would have to sit still and silent, listening to man after man coming to complain to father. It would be one thing if they tried to be interesting, but, no, it was always the same: we want money for this, this person owes us money and should pay it, we owe this person money but we won’t pay it, lower the taxes for me but not for anyone else, etcetera. He would much rather be off practicing with his sword or being tutored by one of the maesters. Maester Gormon had recently given him a book on the history of the Rhoynish wars, and he would have loved to be reading that right now; but, his father and uncle told him to pay attention, so he would pretend to do so.

He had been enjoying those books on historical wars that he’d been reading recently, and he couldn’t get his mind off of the books and stories of warfare. His cousin Aemon had been training him every day, and always had some story about some hunt or duel that Aemon had been a part of, though his cousin never had much to tell him about leading an actual army into a challenging battle. But, at least Aemon was more fun to be around than his other cousin, Aegon, who was named after Daeron’s father. Aemon and Aegon were both the sons of Uncle Viserys, and Aegon was the eldest, but Aegon was also vastly more boring, always focusing on boring things like looking at the boring women around King’s Landing instead of the more important parts of life.

Daeron used to hope for a younger brother who shared his passion for history and hunting, but Baelor was always reading about the gods; not even interesting foreign gods, like the Old Gods of the North or the Red God of Essos or the awe-inspiring Stallion Who Mounts the World from the Dothraki that Daeron had read about, just the boring old Seven. Daena, the younger sister of himself and Baelor, seemed like she could be interesting, as she at least enjoyed riding her pony, and might someday be interested in hunting or archery from horseback, but she was still only eight, and father wouldn’t allow a daughter to hunt, though perhaps he’d let her go hawking with him when they were older. After Daena was Rhaena, the six-year-old. And lastly was Elaena, the toddler.

No, other than Uncle Viserys and possibly Aemon, Daeron couldn’t pick out any family members that would be useful in an army, unless someone in the family ended up being a dragon rider someday, when the dragons would be numerous again. Daeron dreamed of riding a dragon into battle nearly every night, with an army led by trusted generals to carry out his plans flawlessly.

After a brief time of daydreaming, imagining himself leading one of those infamous armies of the past, Daeron was pulled back to reality when his father announced, in his usual sorrowful tone of voice that seemed to color his every word, “I have my own thoughts on this subject, but perhaps my son should give his opinion on how this matter should be handled. What is your judgement, Daeron?”

Daeron looked up at his father blankly for a few moments.

Thankfully, old Lord Rickard Dondarrion spoke up, “I bet your forgiveness, Your Grace, but perhaps this is a situation with too much weight for you to leave to a child to decide. The Dornish raids have been raiding my people in the marches for generations, and something must be done. A wall should be made, if you ask me.”

“A wall?” Uncle Viserys asked, sounding tired and annoyed. “You realize how much the Wall up north costs to maintain, correct? Even if this was not a stupid plan, you realize that it would cost far too much? How do you propose we deal with that issue?”

“We can make the Dornish pay for it.” Dondarrion stated firmly.

“Lovely plan,” Uncle Viserys replied sarcastically. “Daeron, what are your thoughts?”

Daeron shrugged. “Well, wouldn’t it be cheaper to just conquer Dorne the way that the conqueror conquered the rest of the continent? I mean, the Ironborn aren’t much of a problem, and their ships make them an even more dangerous set of raiders than the Dornish could be, I would bet.”

At this, father stood up from the Iron Throne, that same sad look on his face; but somehow his eyes seemed darker than usual. “Brother, would you be so kind as to deal with the court for the rest of the day? I think it’s time I have a few words with my son.”

Nodding, Uncle Viserys only said, “As you order it, King Aegon.”

Father walked to Daeron’s chair slowly, looking like some ghost as always; between father’s dressing in all black and being so pale, along with his ever-present aura of sadness, Daeron’s younger brother Baelor used to be afraid of their father, claiming that father resembled some ghost or vengeful spirit. Sometimes it seemed that father only smiled when he held Daeron’s youngest sister, the toddler Elaena. Daeron got up out of his chair as his father neared.

Without stopping, father continued past Daeron, out of the throne room. Daeron followed after him, trying to stay in line next to his father. “Where are we going, father?”

Father sighed. “Daeron, you’ve never seen a dragon up close, have you? I know you used to beg to see one, and I should have let you. I should have taken you to see her years ago.”

“What do you mean, Father?” Daeron asked. “You said that the last dragon was in no fit state to be seen, and that we were better off waiting until after a new clutch hatched…what made you change your mind?”

Father didn’t answer, instead he only kept walking. They were nearing the Dragonpit, Daeron noticed. Father had never allowed any of them to enter it before. Only he and Uncle Viserys and maesters had been allowed to go inside recently. Though, as he was only ten, Daeron hoped that he would be allowed inside when he was a man grown; but, that hope didn’t stop him from trying to sneak in a few times in the past. Now, was father finally saying that Daeron was old enough to see the dragon? That his idea to conquer Dorne meant that he was old enough to ride the last dragon into victory? Daeron couldn’t help but grin, despite his father’s frown; this would be the greatest day of his life. When men remembered him, in a hundred and fifty years, they would say that this was the day that Daeron the Conqueror’s reign began. Father walked past the guards at the entrance, and then unlocked the door into the pit area.

Daeron had seen the skulls of the long-dead dragons that his ancestors had ridden. He’d seen the giant skull of the Black Dread, the great dragon that had been the greatest weapon of Aegon the Conqueror. Balerion the Black Dread was the ideal of what a dragon should look like, inspiring respect and fear. What he saw in the pit was nothing like what a dragon should look like: small and twisted and withered and dying. His grin was immediately gone, and he couldn’t help but feel disappointment. He’d be better off riding a mule into battle. This creature would inspire no respect and no fear from his enemies, just amusement at best and pity at worst. “Father…is this some jape?” Daeron asked.

“No, my son.” Father shook his head, not even looking at Daeron, his eyes on the sick green creature that was dying in front of them, dying slowly. Daeron looked up at his father’s face; he didn’t see only sadness this time. Instead, there was something else on father’s face. Something that looked like…fear? No, it couldn’t be fear. Not from just staring at this creature. It was more likely just disgust that this was the only dragon the family had. No doubt Daeron was correct in his guess. Father continued speaking, “Daeron, the maesters don’t expect her to live much longer. And no eggs have hatched in a long time; doubtless dragons are extinct. You’re not a fool, boy, I know you can see my meaning in telling you all of this.”

Daeron was drawing a blank on this one. “Forgive me, father, but I have no idea.”

Father tried to clear up the confusion. “Daeron, this is about your earlier idea of conquering Dorne. Unless some miracle happens and some dragon appears for you to mount and ride to conquer Dorne, Dorne won’t be conquered. As Princess Martell, the ruler of Dorne, and her family words say: Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.” Father paused, and then asked, “Daeron, am I correct in assuming that you can keep silent about what I’m about to say?”

“Of course, Father.” Daeron nodded, turned back to face the wretched little creature that was supposedly a dragon.

“That creature will most likely be dead soon, and most likely will never have another clutch of eggs. Then, we will have no dragons. Dragons are how we kept the kingdoms in line. With this one dying, I’ve feared each night that I would lose my hold on the kingdoms; if not for your uncle, it’s doubtless that I would have lost it already. I can only hope that he lives long enough to get you to the point that you can keep a hold onto Targaryen rule.” Father explained. “I’m sorry that you’re left in this position, son. I really am.”

Daeron didn’t reply, he just kept staring intently at the shit excuse for a dragon that father chose to show him today. The banners of his family had a dragon on them; how was this thing anything but an insult to his family’s good name? The Targaryens rule the Seven Kingdoms, even if the Dornish don’t know that the Targaryens are their overlords yet. He couldn’t help but get angry, with this creature dying in front of him. He’d been called a ‘young dragon’ by people so many times in King’s Landing; this almost felt like it had been meant as an insult now.

“I realize that my words have made you angry at me, and you have every right to be.” Father sighed again. “I left you in a bad position, Daeron, I would be angry as well, if I were in your place. I feel as though I’ve damned the family’s legacy; I’ve felt that way for years…perhaps you’ll understand my sentiment when you’re a man grown.”

Daeron turned and walked out of the Dragonpit, resisting the urge to slay this dying pseudo-dragon himself and put it out its misery. He would be king someday, maybe when he was thirty or forty; having such a twisted little thing representing his rule would be an insult. “That’s not a dragon.” Daeron said simply, as he walked through the exit of the Dragonpit. “That creature is less than the shadow of a snake!”


	2. Bucephalus

### Chapter 2: Bucephalus

14 December 156 AC

Father was dying, according to mother and the maesters. Daeron hadn’t been allowed to see him ever since he fell ill; his younger brother and sisters had not gotten to see father, either. Young Elaena didn’t seem very bothered, probably because of her age, but the rest of them did not take it as well.

Daeron and Daena repeatedly begged mother to let them speak with father, for fear that he would die before they could see him again. But, mother kept refusing them, convinced as she was that they would fall ill with consumption as well. Unfortunately, the maesters agreed with her, so Daeron and Daena were left to wait impatiently for mother to relent. Hopefully. As long as father lived long enough, Daeron was sure that mother would relent.

However, opposite and equal to the eldest brother and eldest sister, the second son and second daughter both dedicated their time to prayer, meekly accepting mother’s decision not to let them visit father. Partially for this perceived ‘betrayal’ to father, but mostly because Daeron didn’t enjoy Baelor’s company and Daena didn’t enjoy Rhaena’s company, they used this as an excuse to their mother whenever she caught them being rude to their more ‘holy’ siblings, lately.

Although, mother did seem somewhat happy that Daeron and Daena were spending more time together now. And Daeron had to admit that having Daena around was what he had always imagined having a little brother would be like; a fun little brother, not one like Baelor. Except that this little brother was a girl. But, he supposed it would be better to be born without a cock than to be born without an ounce of fun.

So, a short time into father’s illness, Daeron had paid some merchant from Dorne for a short recurved bow, and had asked another merchant, this one specializing in the trade of horses, for a good horse for someone of his younger sister’s size; nothing too fancy, it would have to be something that was good for riding on a hunt or into battle.

The merchant didn’t seem to take his request very seriously, but he did go through with it; it wouldn’t fit to mock the crown prince, after all. So, the merchant offered to show Daeron through the stables, showing him each of the prize ponies and geldings that might be useful for the princess of the Iron Throne. Daeron attempted to pay attention, but the fool was focusing on how the horse would look under his sister instead of telling him anything about the horse’s actual strength. The most information he was getting about the actual horses was that they were all gentle and mild-mannered.

Daeron forced a yawn. “Do you have anything exciting?”

The merchant, who had mentioned his name at one point, but damned if Dearon remembered, stopped. “Your Highness, I would have to recommend against anything too unruly. Your sister the princess is just a girl, and the less tame horses are more fit for men.”

Daeron thought it over for a moment. It occurred to him that he should probably find his own horse for battle once he was old enough for war, as he wouldn’t be able to use a dragon, now that the last dragon was dead. “I will come back tomorrow; in fact, I think I want to get my own horse when I return. Have the best of your horses ready for my sister and myself. I’ll pick them out then.”

The merchant, whatever his name was, bowed to Daeron as Daeron left the stables. He decided that he would see if Uncle Viserys or his cousin Aemon would join him; Uncle Viserys was always wise about this sort of thing, and Aemon had an eye for knightly things, such as horses and weapons. It made Daeron glad that he was squired to Aemon instead of being squired to someone useless.

It was a mild surprise to Daeron when Viserys said that he would be joining him to the horse merchant on the morrow instead of getting Aemon to do so. Viserys had been so busy with keeping the kingdom running and teaching his young grandson, also named Daeron, reading and arithmetic. Fat lot of good that did; the boy was only two or three years old. The infant Daeron was the son of Viserys’s son Aegon and his daughter Naerys.

The next day, with his uncle joining him, Daeron returned to the horse merchant. The merchant was bowing the moment he saw them. “Rise, Vardis, my nephew says you are supposed to show him your best horses today. Be quick about it, I have business to attend to after this.”

Daeron wondered how his uncle knew the merchant’s name, but just chalked it up to his uncle knowing everything around King’s Landing.

“Of course, Lord Hand, of course.” The merchant nodded, rising. “I stayed up through the night, avoiding sleep, for the duty of preparing this list.” He walked over to a table and picked up a paper. “Seventy-seven of my most well-bred horses, all of which would be suitable for a crown prince to ride.”

As the merchant brought the paper to Daeron’s uncle, Daeron got a good look at the man; the merchant seemed alert enough. His eyes showed no sign of redness or lack of sleep. He didn’t seem to be dealing with the outcome of anything that would keep him wide-awake for a meeting with royalty. “It’s considered treason to lie to a prince.” Daeron said calmly.

“Pardon, Your Grace?” The merchant stopped in his tracks, a quizzical look on his face. “While my horses may not be dragons, as your family is accustomed to, I can assure you that they are quite suitable for anyone.”

The Hand of the King looked down at Daeron. “Explain yourself, boy.” He ordered.

“He couldn’t possibly have been working on this all night.” Daeron pointed out, feeling excessively proud of himself.

Before Daeron could explain his reasoning behind this, his uncle gave him a clout in the ear. “He’s a fucking merchant, he’s going to exaggerate the work he put into his damned list. Don’t think you’re as wise as old Jaehaerys because you noticed a man wasn’t about to fall asleep. And a merchant trying to sell his stock for a decent price isn’t treason; learn that before my brother passes.” Uncle Viserys turned back to face the merchant and took the list, looking over it. “Good ages, all of them, and good breeds. I see you’ve separated them into groups of seven on your list, though.”

“Well, yes, Lord Hand,” the merchant explained. “I thought it would be appreciated if I divided them up a bit. The first group of seven are all the bred to be used as war horses; the second is for hunting; the third for racing; the fourth for ceremonial events that I imagine that a royal may be involved in; and so on.”

“We’ll take a look at the top of each set, then. If they all are good enough for my nephew, then I’ll buy the lot.”

“And we need to get one for Daena.” Daeron added.

“One of these seventy-seven will do, if I buy them.” Viserys decided. “You and Aemon are sure to find a few from that lot that your sister would like.” Viserys addressed the merchant now, “We’ll start with the war horses. At the top, this one is called ‘Bucephalus’. Get it out into a pen for us to see.”

Daeron followed his Uncle Viserys to the pen, and, as they waited for this ‘Bucephalus’ to be shown, Daeron asked his uncle, “Why did you strike me? Father said that no one should strike a prince of the blood.”

“It was less than most princes should get.” Viserys said simply. When Daeron gave him a confused look, Viserys continued. “You’re to be king, Daeron. You and your sons and their sons and their sons will be the future of House Targaryen. I love your father, so, for his sake, I will make sure that you will not be a repeat of Maegor the Cruel.”

“But, the merchant did lie.” Daeron countered.

“Do you take me for a blind fool?” Viserys asked. “Of course he lied, merchants always lie and vassals always lie and everyone always lie. The merchant’s lie was a harmless exaggeration. For law-making, things must be set in stone; but, when you’re interacting with someone who you could have killed or imprisoned with a word, you have to act human. You are not a law-book, Daeron, though you may be writing a law-book someday. Don’t hound people over something so pointless. It makes you look bad and it makes the family look bad. Understand?”

“What about when someone’s lie could be the death of someone in the royal family?” Daeron asked.

“Then that’s when we call it treason.” Viserys answered, as the horse was half-led and half-dragged into the pen. “This creature has a strong look about it. What’s your judgement of it?”

“He’s big.” Daeron said, trying to think of the best words to sum up this horse. “But they’re having trouble leading him, and they’ve had him for years.”

“Exactly. So, it’s doubtful that he would obey anyone very easily. Come, we’ll get a closer look. It should be safe.” Viserys led Daeron into the pen, where the merchant stood well away from the horse, his two men keeping a careful hold on the horse.

The horse was huge, and its head seemed almost too large for its body. Its coat was black, almost completely black, except for a white five-pointed star-shape on its brow. Though the men employed by the merchant kept a hold of it, the animal was struggling. “This horse is perfect for me.” Daeron announced. “We’ll take him.”

Ignoring his nephew, Viserys examined the horse for a few minutes. “It’s well bred, I’ll agree. But the animal is definitely too wild. I won’t have my nephew ride a horse like this into a battle; it would get him killed.”

“But, uncle, it’s the best horse I’ve ever seen!” Daeron said, his eyes still focused on the horse, watching it try to get away from the men. The creature seemed to be struggling to get away from something. It was always trying to bolt in the same direction. The direction away from its shadow, he noted.

Still ignoring him, Viserys told the merchant, “I’ve seen horses like this one before. Some are just impossible to tame. You will it replaced on your list with a better trained one.”

“I bet I could tame it!” Daeron exclaimed.

“Don’t be foolish, nephew.”

“Uncle, I’ll bet you a dozen golden dragons that I could calm it.” Gold dragons, being the most expensive type of coin in Westeros, would be a fair amount to bet, even among royalty, by Daeron’s guess.

“Daeron, you’d be betting your father’s money. The money I helped him to make.” Viserys pointed out, finally turning to address Daeron.

“Alright, then, if I can’t get control of that horse, I’ll make your grandson that’s named after me a member of the Small Council once he’s grown.” Daeron offered. “Just give me a chance to tame that horse.”

“A position on the Small Council?” Viserys seemed interested. “For your entire kingship, once he’s of age? Even after my death?”

“That’s the bet. Take it or leave it, uncle.” Daeron answered, pleased with himself.

“Alright, and if you somehow manage to get control of this beast?”

Daeron thought it over for a few moments. “Then you have to admit that I was right and you were wrong.” That would be worth a thousand gold dragons.

“Ha! Alright, just don’t get yourself killed.” Viserys agreed. “I’ll take your gamble, and my grandson will thank me for it when he’s a man grown.” He ordered the men holding Bucephalus, “Let the boy get a good hold on the horse before you let it go.”

Daeron got a hold of the reins of Bucephalus, and then the other two men released the horse. Daeron tried to keep the creature calm, talking softly, the way he would to a dog. He directed Bucephalus towards the sun, facing away from his shadow, and started walking slowly with him. The horse started to calm down slowly, even when Daeron started to turn him to walk in the direction of his shadow, and, after a few minutes, Daeron climbed onto the horse’s back, using the reins to have Bucephalus trot over to Viserys. “I suppose I win, then, uncle.” Daeron told him.

“You were right, Daeron.” Viserys said, a smile slowly appearing. “And I was wrong. And I’m impressed. Vardis, I suppose I’ve seen enough; I’ll buy those horses you listed.”

“I don’t want the rest,” Daeron informed. “This is the only horse worthy of me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this, all comments, especially criticism and advice, are appreciated.
> 
> I'm hoping to have a chapter up at least every two days, though I was hoping to have more time to work on this one. Both of the people I have go over the chapters before I post them were unable to do so with this one. I had no beta-readers for my first fanfiction story on this site, but I was hoping to have them for this one. As my current two may occasionally be too busy, anyone who is capable of using wikipedia on Alexander the Great or is capable of using the wiki for A Song of Ice and Fire would be an awesome beta-reader for me. Especially considering that one of my beta-readers has never even seen the show and the other has only watched the show and read half of the first book two years ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to take a look at this. All comments, especially criticism and advice, are appreciated.


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